The Switching
by BrodieBlue
Summary: Dean Ambrose is a school teacher who's doing a spot of babysitting ... This is no way near as hot as it sounds. Contains spanking (surprise, surprise!) and only a smidgen of smut. WARNING: Mention of parental spanking.
1. Chapter 1

**This is probably the strangest thing you will ever read from me. Before you get into this you need to understand that this is primarily about spanking. If you're a proper spanko; you will see that this contains all the elements of a classic spanking story. This is the first part of a three parter; I might not upload the rest of it. It depends on how much you all hate it! Disclaimer: All locations are fictional.  
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**WARNING: Mention of parental spanking.**

* * *

><p>"Morning Son!"<p>

Those words had greeted Dean Ambrose every morning since he had moved to this suburban paradise. He raised his hand swiftly in greeting and returned his neighbours wide smile with a tight lipped one of his own. Bert was harmless enough, but Dean was not a morning person. He'd have to learn how to be though, and quickly, because he was now a fully qualified school teacher. The days of partying every night and sleeping off the after effects in the day time were now behind him, at least on weekdays. The weekends were still his to do with as he pleased, though Oakhaven wasn't exactly where the party was at. He escaped the row of little boxes he lived on now and fled to the city on Friday night's to return bleary eyed on Sunday evenings.

But this morning was a Monday morning and he had a whole five days to get through until then. He walked to his car quicker and avoided his neighbour's gaze that he could feel resting on him, lest he try to strike up a conversation with him. He meant no offence by this; he was just not a people person either. Really, the job of a teacher seemed like a poor fit for him but he was academically gifted, surprisingly, given the lack of encouragement he had received during his childhood and adolescence. Everything he had accomplished was down to him and his sharp mind. He was good at History, really good, so a career in that field made sense. Teaching History to kids seemed like a step in the right direction. Plus, the pay and holidays were good. He even enjoyed teaching. So far he hadn't had one difficult student, but that may have been more due to his general attitude and air of, 'don't fuck with me,' that he gave off rather than the disposition of his students. It was hardly appropriate for a school classroom, but when he had his students in only one month of teaching at Oakhaven High behaving that well and getting top marks in that terms first assignments, the principal wasn't going to complain. Now he was safe in his car and had avoided having a conversation with his neighbour he could think of the work day that lay ahead and of how to avoid Rose, Bert's wife, later that day. She had taken to calling on him a few days a week in the late afternoon, usually shortly after he had finished work ...

* * *

><p>Dean settled on his couch and cracked open a can of beer, he took a slurp from it and nearly spat it down his front when he heard his doorbell ring. He cursed and grunted, then scuttled to the door to look through the peephole.<p>

It was her ... and she was holding what looked like a pie in her hands. He could hardly pretend he wasn't in when she'd obviously watched him pull into his driveway. He plastered a faux friendly smile on his face before reluctantly opening the door to her. He tried to repress the look of displeasure that always automatically crossed his face whenever he laid eyes on Rose. She wasn't exactly the type of woman that came to mind when you thought of roses. She was a skinny woman with sunken cheeks and an almost grey complexion. Her long, brown tangled hair was streaked with white and though she was not ugly, she was incredibly plain. And she had that mean, pinched look about her that had made Dean take an instant dislike to her even though she had gone out of her way to do seemingly nice things for him, like bake him pies. He couldn't help thinking that all of that was a foil for her true nature.

"Oh hello Dean!" she said brightly and held up the steaming pie proudly in her hands.

"How are you? How was work? I made you a little something! Pecan pie! I do hope you like Pecan pie, but everyone likes Pecan pie right?!" she bombarded him, not even pausing to breath, let alone allowing him time to answer her questions.

"I sure love Pecan pie," he said flatly when she had finally shut up.

"Oh good, I'm so pleased! Have you met my daughter Anne?"

Dean shook his head, bewildered; it was news to him that Bert and Anne had a daughter.

"Anne! Come out here!" Rose snapped, her face twisted into a snarl. Now that was not a side Dean had ever seen of Rose ...

She reached for something and out came a girl from behind her back. Rose must have dominated her surroundings so much that Dean hadn't even noticed her daughter that had been hiding behind her. He had expected a pallid creature to emerge before him, not dissimilar to her mother, but Anne was not ... _she_ should have been named Rose! Her skin was sunkissed, where her mother's was pale and she looked healthy, she was slim but not all bones and sharp angles. The only feature she seemed to share with her mother was her long brown hair. She was a pretty girl, not very remarkable or beautiful, but considering how Bert and Rose looked, they had not produced a bad looking daughter.

"This is Anne, say hello Anne," Rose said, introducing her daughter.

"Hello Mr. Ambrose," she said, waving her hand in greeting.

Dean laughed at the formal term of address coming from somebody who was not a student and he wiggled his fingers back at her. He suppressed the urge to throw her a wink too, for that would not do in front of her dear old mother.

"Dean is fine," he said.

The girl smiled, almost cheekily, like they were sharing a joke at her mother's expense. Dean liked this girl. But Rose put a stop to all that when she pinched Anne's arm sharply.

"Mom!" Anne balked at her Mother.

"Stop slouching! And it's _still_ Mr. Ambrose to you young lady!"

Dean watched the little domestic they were having in part amusement, part horror. Arguments between mother and daughter were always funny to watch, but it did make for uncomfortable viewing when the mother was so clearly a beast to her daughter.

"Here's your pie!" Dean suddenly heard Rose's shrill voice harp at him and she thrusted the pie under his nose. He stretched out his hands slowly and she deposited the heavy pie in them.

"Don't eat it all at once!-" Rose said, only to stop talking when Dean addressed her daughter.

"Are you home schooled? I haven't seen you at Oakhaven High," he asked her.

Rose immediately piped up to answer for her daughter but Dean heard Anne's, "I don't go to school anymore", clearly above Rose's word's and it seemed Rose had too because her face changed.

"Well, enjoy the pie! Perhaps we'll see you tomorrow. Goodbye _Mr. Ambrose_," Rose said abruptly then looked at her daughter contemptuously, threatening her to do the same or else.

But Anne lingered to say, "bye Dean."

Rose did not utter another word and flounced off to her house, her long skirt snapping at her ankles as she sauntered off.

"Bye Anne," he smiled at her now the mother's back was turned.

She was not an Oakhaven student he had never laid eyes on before, which relieved some of the guilt he had felt in looking at her ...

"Get a move on!" Rose shouted over her shoulder at Anne, though she was only a foot behind her.

Anne rolled her eyes at Dean, smiled mischievously and then turned on her heel to catch up to her mother. Dean snatched a glance of her from behind ... She had a nice butt. It was tight, but looked soft. The wind caught in her skirt as she jogged and one side of it lifted enough so that he caught a glimpse of her panties and enough of her right buttock to see that delectable crease between buttock and thigh. He was certainly going to look forward to Rose's fly by visits much more if she was going to bring her daughter with her.

* * *

><p>"I suppose you know what nineteen year old girls are like, huh?" Rose said to Dean.<p>

It was another day; another where yet again she was leaning with her arms folded against the wooden frame of his door. She'd become awfully comfortable in his presence of late, but Dean had never invited her to cross the threshold.

"Actually I don't," he answered her wearily, but not rudely.

He really didn't. The only nineteen year old girls he'd come in to contact with through teaching were the few in his classes that had been held back, and they seemed fine to him. They were quiet and got on with their work. They were no bother.

"Oh you don't? Well just you wait, teenage girls are the worst! We never had these problems with Luke, never!" Rose carried on complaining.

Dean just nodded his head. He hadn't listened to any of her complaints about Anne. He didn't even know who Luke was; he could only presume Luke was Anne's older, absent brother and the golden boy of the family.

"If only he were her. Luke's a good boy, he could have watched her while we go to the PTA dinner ... Oh she's such a pain!"

Back to _that_ again. Dean tried not to sigh. Why didn't she just ask him to watch Anne? There were only so many pies and Bert's attempts at manly banter he could take!

"I can watch her if you can't find anyone else," Dean muttered.

She was nineteen years old, a young woman, more than capable of looking after herself. He was supporting himself before that age; well before that age ... It struck him as odd, to say the least, that she would need a babysitter. What did they fear would happen while they were gone for a few hours?

"Oh no no! I wasn't hinting!" Rose said, flapping her hands, though her eyes had lit up, suggesting that this was what she had been working on for weeks.

"I know, it's fine," Dean lied, shrugging his shoulder.

"Oh you are a good Christian!" Rose gushed.

A _what_? Dean wouldn't call himself a Christian and he wasn't doing this out of Christian charity, but what would be the point in shattering her illusions? Rather than adamantly deny he was anything but he smiled his good boy smile instead.

"It's nothing," he said.

"Thank you so much!" Rose beamed.

"We're leaving at five thirty Friday evening, come by five minutes before, if that's okay, and we can have a chat before we leave?" she suggested.

Friday?! Why hadn't he thought to ask what night?! He still had Saturday, but Anne had better be fun, or at least not be a brat or he would not be repeating this favour.

"That's fine," he said to her, not at all reassuringly. However, Rose seemed to miss the reluctance that bled through in his tone.

"I can't thank you enough! Thank you!" she tittered and grasped Dean's hand in her two bony, cold ones. She squeezed his hand, though he made no effort to squeeze back her reptilian hands; instead he tried his best to slip out of that cold vice.

"It's okay. See you on Friday," he grimaced; then tried his damndest to shut his door on her.

* * *

><p>"Anne! Anne!" Rose called shrilly from the bottom of her and Bert's big staircase.<p>

They had a nice home. Dean knew it would be well kept, just from seeing the outside of it every day, it dimmed his own box. But this was still not a dream house to him; it was still a conformist box, just a little more fancy than his.

"ANNE!" Bert roared so loudly beside Dean, into his ear, that it made him wince. There was no way their daughter could ignore that.

"What?!" her raised voice replied sassily and it was followed by angry stomps along the corridor besides the staircase above them.

"Come down to greet your minder!" Rose said.

Dean gave her a sideways glance. Was she a moron? That wasn't going to make her want to come downstairs ...

"I don't need a minder!" she yelled back, a few steps away from the top of the staircase. She came to the top, into view, then she abruptly stopped shouting when she saw her 'minder'. Dean winked at her covertly.

"Oh ... Hey," she smiled and reached back to pull her thick waving brown hair over one shoulder.

Dean's decision to not pull out, even though he devoted Friday evenings to frivolity might have been to do with how enticing he found Anne, but only a tiny bit ...

"Come down Anne!" came Rose's voice again.

Anne's open smile turned into a scowl, then she lightly skipped down the stairs to stop in front of them.

"Tell Mr. Ambrose your weekend rules!" Rose snapped and roughly grabbed Anne's arm to pull her closer to them.

What was Rose's problem?! And what was her Father's problem? Why didn't he protect his own daughter from her dismal mother? But Dean wasn't overly concerned by the uneasy relationship between mother and daughter. Anne seemed perfectly capable of standing up for herself. She wrenched herself free of Rose's gripping hands; then recited her rules.

"At the dining table by seven, studying. Home by nine. No snacks after nine. Upstairs, lights out, music and TV off and no reading by eleven," Anne whipped through her rules with her arms folded tightly over her perky chest.

That didn't sound like such a bad routine to Dean; at least they let her out of the house ... but rules at her age? He understood children needed rules. But nineteen year olds no longer had to follow parental rules, did they? He had actually never had rules forced on him, but as he did not matter to any adults in his formative years and excelled at school, he was never brought up on his rule breaking. Rose's sharp voice broke through Dean's reflection.

"Good!" she snapped.

"And what happens if you break those rules"' Bert then said.

He wasn't a man of many words, but those words had made his daughter blush and Rose was now oddly silent. She stood next to Bert with her arms folded, forming a united front against what they obviously considered to be a tearaway daughter.

"Daddddd," she whined.

They both stared hard at Anne.

"Go on Anne," Bert urged her.

Anne sighed heavily and kept her arms crossed defensively. She looked at her feet and then muttered, "I will get a switching."

"Right," Bert said gruffly.

Dean nearly squawked at those words. She got switched at nineteen?! He'd seen young kids get a switching in the shithole he had grew up in, but never a nineteen year old. What kind of a switching were they talking about anyway? A proper switching on the bare ass? Or just a few flicks over clothes? He didn't want to ask, it was too awkward a question. But Bert answered his curiosities, saving him the embarrassment.

"If you do have to give her a switching I always make her cut her own switch and I don't stop switching her on the bare until I think she has learnt her lesson," Bert addressed Dean.

Perhaps Dean was slow on the uptake today, but it hadn't yet occurred to him that they would be trusting _him _with the discipline of their daughter. He was a teacher, but he hadn't actually handed out one detention yet. He certainly wasn't ever going to spank a student. Corporal punishment wasn't legal in schools here and he was pretty sure what Bert and Rose were doing wasn't legal.

"Ohhhh," Dean merely responded to Bert, his eyes wide.

"Dad!" Anne exclaimed. "Don't tell him that! I won't need a switching!"

Dean could see Anne's cheeks reddening. His dick was twitching at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he might need to pull Anne's jeans down and slap her gorgeous ass ...

"Won't you? You forgot another rule didn't you? No more seeing that damn boy!" Bert growled.

"Oh you mean C-?" Anne's furious blush was fading now that she had latched onto something that took the attention off the fact that Anne was still subject to spankings at her age.

Rose's face now pinched up even more, "don't say his name!" she shrieked.

"You know it upsets your mother, Anne," Bert frowned, his big brow becoming heavier.

Anne pouted, but her eyes were still alight with amusement. Dean couldn't blame her; it must feel good to get one up on both her mother and her father who had embarrassed her. But Bert regained the upper hand again.

He looked at Dean and said, "you'll know if she's been seeing that boy. She'll try to sneak out dressed like a hussy with a painted face and she'll come back stinking of cigarettes."

Rose nodded beside him, her pointed chin held up.

"If that does happen Dean, do not hesitate to switch her. You will be sure to tell us if you do, won't you son?"

"Uh huh," Dean nodded.

He tried to look solemn ... but he could feel his mouth twitching. He wanted to smile, he couldn't understand why though. Was he sick in the head? Why was Anne's squirming making him _glow_?

"Oh look at the time! Bert we better go!" Rose then said after peering at a clock perched on an end table.

"Goodbye Dean!" she raised her hand in farewell to him, then looked daggers at her daughter.

"Behave yourself," she simply said. Then she left the house through the open front door without a word of goodbye to her daughter. But Bert did not immediately follow her.

"Goodnight Princess. Be a good girl," he said affectionately.

He waited for Anne's warm, "Night Daddy," before he left.

"See you later Dean. Thanks again," he then said, and stuck out his hand to shake Dean's hand firmly. Then they were gone.

An awkward silence followed in which Dean stared at Anne. His gaze was obviously making her feel uncomfortable. He was seeing her differently now. In his mind's eye he saw a pair of lush buttocks dancing under his hand, but he tried to push that selfish and perverted image away. She was legal and not much younger than him though, but nineteen still felt too young and he was a teacher now. Not once had he checked out a student, so Anne should be no different. However, the more he thought of it, the more open minded he was becoming to the thought of spanking her, and not for his own sexual gratification.


	2. Chapter 2

_The more he thought of it, the more open minded he was becoming to the thought of spanking her, and not for his own sexual gratification..._

Taking some pity on Anne's feeling of disquiet, he broke the silence.

"What are we having for dinner tonight?" he asked.

The thought of food seemed to brighten her up.

"Mom left lasagne. It's not bad actually!" she said with a shy smile; then walked away.

Dean followed in her footsteps, to the kitchen.

"She's left it in here for us. All ready to cook," she said, gesturing to the oven.

"Well, do it now. I'm starving," Dean said, giving his stomach a playful rub.

"Okay!" Anne grinned at his antics and instantly obeyed him.

He half hoped and half didn't hope that she'd be this malleable all night. He'd have an easy night, but on the other hand, no excuse to spank her ... Was he still thinking that? He felt himself becoming aroused again and opened the kitchen's fridge he saw to distract himself. Surely her old man drank beer, everyone did. But to his disappointment, he didn't find any.

"Don't you have any beers?" he threw at Anne over his shoulder. "You haven't even got soda!" he said in amazement when his inspection turned out to be completely fruitless.

"They only drink when they go out," Anne said.

"Right," he sighed, really he should have known that they were too straight laced to drink in the house.

This child minding, young person minding, young woman minding – whatever it was, business, was getting off to the wrong start. It was Friday, _his_ Friday!

"Anne-" he was going to ask her if she would fetch some beers from his place, but he decided against it.

"I'm gonna go mine very quickly, just to get some beers. _Don't_ wander off while I'm gone, okay?" he said, staring at her hard.

Anne nodded her understanding.

"Me and you will get along great and maybe have some fun, but only if you don't mess me around. Yeah?"

Anne looked a little startled by his firm tone, his students were like that too when he had similar talks with them, but everything was fine afterwards ... so long as they took his words to heart, and they all had so far.

Anne nodded again, this time more frantically.

"Alright, I'll be five minutes. Don't go anywhere, don't even go upstairs. Stay in the kitchen," he ordered.

"I will," she said, sincerely.

Dean volunteered a reassuring smile, with which she returned a sweet one. This was unlike any day he'd ever had. He was used to being a figure of authority by now, but not to other adults. However, Anne seemed so used to living her life in obedience that it was far too easy to instruct her, to expect her to obey ... he realised he was staring at her and made a hasty exit through the back door before he revealed anymore of his inner thoughts on his face or let his mind wander too far into the realms it wanted to explore.

* * *

><p>He found Anne exactly where he had left her when he returned.<p>

"Do you drink?" he asked her, dumping the bottles by the backdoor with a grunt.

"Yeah, duh!" she said, and then let her tongue loll out of her mouth, sassily.

He fixed her with a narrow eyed look to show he did not approve of her sass and misuse of the English language, but he couldn't help being a little won over by Anne's generally charming ways.

"I knew you would," he said when her face had sobered and he saw a gentle lump anxiously move in her throat. "Help yourself, but don't get drunk. Actually, I'm going to limit you to two for now. Drink them slowly," he cautioned.

He cracked a bottle open with his key ring, and then slid it across the table to Anne.

"Thanks," she muttered, then wrapped her lips around the neck of the bottle. She took a long chug, whilst maintaining eye contact with him.

She placed the bottle back down on the table with a sigh and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. It was a quarter down already. Dean didn't know whether to take that as an act of defiance or not, so he did nothing in response, other than sit opposite her with a beer himself and treat her as much as an equal as he could within these peculiar perimeters.

* * *

><p>Dean was sat at the table in the kitchen with Anne eating Rose's lasagne. He had made small talk with her about home schooling. He almost detested himself for making such dull conversation, but Anne wasn't very talkative. She didn't seem dumb, but he couldn't converse with her about more thought provoking topics if she wasn't open to it, so eventually he asked her about something he had been curious about.<p>

"Who's 'C'"? He asked, doing an impression of the cut off sound she had made when she had been going to name a guy she was seeing, before her Father cut her off.

Anne giggled mischievously and sucked off the last remains of food from her fork before answering him. Dean's eyes darted to her pink tongue, which he was sure she was attempting to taunt him with. He kept his expression impassive, as if he was unaffected, and focused on her eyes.

"His name is Callum," she said.

"Callum?" he repeated, his tone asking for a surname.

He'd had an inkling of who her boyfriend could be. He'd been going over all the C's he'd got to know of in this small community, and there was one that fit the bill of the type of boy he suspected her parents would not want her to see.

"Erm Smith," Anne said after a long pause and much movement of her eyes. It couldn't be more obvious that she had pulled that surname out of her butt. Maybe she wasn't so stupid; perhaps she had figured out that Dean was on to her and she felt embarrassed of her poor choice in men.

"Callum Smith. Right. I've never heard of him. I guess he doesn't live around here?"

Anne avoided his piercing beyes and began pushing around the remains of lasagne on her plate with her fork.

"No," she said softly.

"Stop playing with your food if you're done with it," he demanded.

Anne looked up, gave another nervous swallow, and then pushed the plate away from her.

"Your parents seem to be pretty against him, why?"

"He erm well ... I'll tell you the truth."

She looked at him through eyes that were also blue, but not such an icy hue as his; hers were darker and more common. He smiled at her encouragingly. He had built some kind of relationship with her already. She responded well to him; Dean was laid back, so long as you didn't cross him and she had not overtly done so yet. She had been quick to obey anything he asked of her, no matter how sharply he'd spoken to her.

"I'm all ears," he assured her.

"Well, one of his brothers is in prison so they think he comes from a bad lot, but he's not like them at all," Anne said with a shake of her thick mane of hair.

Dean doubted that was all there was to it and pushed her further. "What's his brother in prison for?"

"I don't know ...he beat somebody up or something," she shrugged.

That did not sound good, but Dean did not react to her revelation, showing neither shock nor nonchalance.

"Does he have any other brothers and sisters?" he asked.

"there's five boys including him and one girl."

"Big family then."

"Yes."

"Do you like all his other siblings?"

"Hmm some of them, I don't know all of them. His sister is the worst actually, she's a slut."

Dean knew her, if 'Callum Smith' was the guy he was thinking of. So far everything Anne had told him matched up.

"His sister is about to have a baby and her boyfriend has just left her. Callum went crazy, he bottled him. He hasn't gone to the cops though, he daren't," she said rather proudly, which was disturbing.

"Your boyfriend is Callum Wilkes," Dean stated confidently.

The look on her face instantly confirmed his theory; she suddenly appeared flustered.

"No!" she snapped.

Dean smiled knowingly.

"You gave away too much information. Fool," he said.

Dean then saw a flash in Anne's uninteresting eyes that he hadn't seen before.

"What if he was? Why would you care?" she challenged him, fire scorching her voice.

He smirked then laughed, in her face.

"I don't. But if you were ..." he levelled her with a hood eyed look and laughed again at how much she was squirming. "You wouldn't wanna be hanging around with him. Listen to the grown ups. He is a bad apple, rotten the core."

"Well I'm not anyway," she continued to lie, hotly.

"Hmm," he mulled, allowing his tone to drip with doubt, "I'll just have to take your word for it won't I, _Princess_?" he sneered.

He then glanced at the plates on the table.

"Clear the table," he ordered and of course Anne obeyed him. Fast.

* * *

><p>"I'm done," Anne said with a long stretch of her slim arms. She had set herself down at the dining table to study without any prompting from Dean. He was quite impressed by her behaviour, but he did not feel his newly formed frosty feelings about her thaw.<p>

"I'm gonna go out," she announced and stood up.

Dean took his eyes off the movie he was watching to speak to her.

"Alright, back by nine then. That's the rule, isn't it?" he said, rising from the couch to dwarf her with his bigger body and height.

"Erm yeah, about that ..." Anne was looking at her hair she was playing with and shuffling her feet.

Dean sighed; she was playing cute.

"What?" he asked her gruffly.

"You won't tell Mom and Dad if I come home a bit later, will you? ... I'll be back by eleven!" she added when she saw in Dean's expression and posture that he was not likely to agree to this.

"You'll be back by ten," he stated.

That was fair, in his opinion. He had granted her a whole extra hour.

"Please ..." she began to plead and reached out to brush her fingers against his sturdy forearm.

But Dean stopped her movements when he abruptly snatched the unnecessarily large bag she was holding from her hands. He was not going to have this little girl call the shots.

"I said ten," he repeated flatly.

"Yes ... Mr. Ambrose," she said with a measured amount of dejection in her voice.

She eyed the bag longingly, but did not dare to take it from Dean.

"What's in the bag?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said quietly.

He held it out to her rather than searching through it himself, he didn't need to. If she wasn't willing to show him the contents of it, that would tell him everything. He was getting a weird buzz from lauding it over her ... It felt different to exercising authority in the classroom.

"Why don't you show me what's inside then?" he asked her.

Anne took back the bag cautiously, as if Dean was going to snatch it from her clutches again as soon as she touched it.

"I have personal things in here," she said, whilst hugging the bag to her round breasts.

Dean eyes were drawn to them and he watched the gentle, heaving motion of them. He allowed his gaze to settle, past caring about impropriety.

"Like what?" he asked, slowly raising his eyes to her face. "A change of clothes? Cigarettes? Condoms?"

Her face got steadily redder as he guessed everything that was hiding in her bag accurately. He laughed shortly, purposefully meaning to sound unkind.

"I don't care what's in there. But don't come back later than ten or smelling like cigs, alcohol and dick. If I let you break too many rules your parents are gonna know and I will have to do something about it, won't I? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Anne briskly nodded. She did not look like she doubted his promise. Clearly she had more sense than to argue when the very real threat of a spanking was looming over her.

"Then have fun," Dean said, toning down the severe edge to his voice.

Anne slung her bag over her shoulder and walked away without saying goodbye. Dean watched her open the door to the entrance hall before shouting out to her.

"Anne!"

She turned around expectantly; then Dean raised his fingers to his eyes, then to hers. 'I'm watching you,' the gesture said. He saw her eyes widen nervously, then he smirked and she rearranged the features of her face into a smile too, but it was forced. He could see the caution behind her eyes and that was a good thing.


	3. Chapter 3

It was five minutes past ten.

"Here we go," Dean muttered to himself. She better be here soon, if he had to do it he would.

He tried to take an interest in the mindless drabble that was on the television. There was really no point in clock watching. He wasn't going to ring her to check where she was, he had no concerns for her safety. She was a big girl. Perhaps if hours went by and she still hadn't come home, he would try to ring her. But her parents would be home before then, surely. Besides that, if she returned later than ten minutes past ten he'd decided that he would punish her. There would be no negotiation. But whether he would give her a switching, he still didn't know. He had never wielded a switch and if she sensed that he didn't know what he was doing, she'd never take him seriously again. He'd actually never given a spanking for punishment. He'd spanked women for a bit of kinky foreplay, but his efforts had been limited to a few swats on the ass with his hand. He didn't have any kinks, he liked what he liked, he was willing to try almost anything at least once and this was one of those things.

When he eventually heard a noisy car pull up outside the house he peered out of the window; there she was. She was bending over in tiny daisy duke shorts which she hadn't been wearing when she had left the house. And, what would you know? The driver looked surprisingly like Callum Wilkes. Dean checked the time; she was a whole twenty-five minutes later than she should have been. He watched Anne's ass wiggle for a few more moments; she was leaning in for a kiss from her beau and his hand had snaked around her waist and pawed at a buttock that was poking out of her shorts.

Dean made his way to the front of the house and flicked the porch light on. Then he leaned against the wall by the door, crossing his thickly muscled arms across his chest and staring intensely at Callum Wilkes. Callum noticed him, and the look that crossed his face was priceless. There was no shortage of bad blood between them.

He heard the tires of Callum's car screech away, but not the excuse he made for abruptly leaving Anne or what she yelled at him as he drove away. She was waving her arms around manically and even tried to run after him, but she gave up pretty quickly. She then turned to see Dean and she smiled at him like a simpleton. She was completely oblivious to the trouble she had got herself into. Anne raised her hand in greeting.

"Hey Dean!"

Dean did not answer her; he only shut the door behind him to stop Anne.

"Erm, can I go inside?" she asked, giggling, though her giggles ceased when she saw the hard look on Dean's face.

"What time do you call this?" he asked, very softly.

"Er, ten thirty?"

"What time did I say you could stay out til?"

"Eleven," she answered him confidently, not looking at all abashed.

She had some nerve. How could she lie and keep such a sweet, innocent look on her face? It didn't make Dean angry though; he had to admire the girl's tenacity.

"Nice try. I said ten," he corrected her.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I thought we had agreed on eleven!" she exclaimed, and both hands flew to her mouth to cover her 'mistake'.

"You know we didn't. And what are you dressed up as?" Dean sneered at her appearance.

"It's not too cold, so I thought I'd put some shorts on. Anyway, you didn't take them off me, but you knew they were in my bag."

She had tenacity; but she wasn't bold enough to look him in the eye as she said that.

"Honey, you never owned up to them being in your bag."

"Well I didn't know you wouldn't be okay with it."

Dean wasn't sure why he was keeping this line of conversation going, her choice of dress, or lack thereof, was not the issue here.

"You were just in Callum Wilkes' car, weren't you? So you lied to me about that."

"He's just a friend!"

"A friend that you dress like that for and let grope your ass?"

Anne began to protest, but Dean was not listening to her; she was done for.

"I've heard enough," he said, and tossed his switchblade to her.

He was impressed to see her catch it one handed. With reflexes like that she must be the sporty type; that would make this so much more satisfying. He had never liked the sporty girls at school; they usually came from money and were snobs.

"I think you know what to do by now, don't you?"

"What?!" Anne gasped.

"Oh, you didn't think I'd switch you? I warned you not to push your luck with me. Go and cut a switch. Right now."

"Please Dean, you don't need to, if you switch me my parents will know and I'll get another switching from Daddy when they get back, please don't make me do it!"

"Look at me," he moved closer to her and slowly pointed a finger, first to himself, "do I look like I feel any pity for you?" then to her.

"If you do not follow my instructions within the next ten seconds I will cut three switches for you. And I will whip you with them until each one of those switches has snapped in half across your bare ass."

Dean was quite impressed, and surprised, by his own brutality. Frighteningly, he didn't think it was beyond the limits of what he could do... He watched a shudder ripple through Anne's shoulders, he was glad that he could make her do that.

"Okay," Anne whispered.

She lowered her gaze submissively and walked to a tree. Dean noticed that it was not the tree that sat closest to the house. It looked like she had chosen a specific tree. He watched her examine the branches as best as she could in this half light of an October evening. She fingered the long, thin branches and after pulling a few out it seemed she had made her selection. She opened the pocket knife, which did not suit her, daintily. He was used to seeing it in his big hand and a not a young woman's. She made a short, quick cut at the base of the branch and when she pulled it free Dean saw how long it was, about two foot, and it was quite straight. She held it by her side as she walked back to him. Dean uncrossed his arms to receive it, holding his palm up expectantly.

She gave him the switchblade first, which he slipped into his pocket. The switch she placed lengthways across his hand, balancing it with her hands at either end. He gripped it firmly and felt just how light and thin it was. He then turned his back on her and walked through the front door that he had left ajar, with Anne following meekly in his footsteps.

Once inside and in the brightly lit house he examined the switch in his hands. It was still green and springy, and felt very flexible when he bent it. Little buds were sprouting on its length here and there, but there were hardly any. He slashed it through the air and whipped it against his thigh. It bent dramatically, he feared almost to the point of breaking, but it sprang back into shape and it packed quite a sting. The switch made a nice whistling sound as it travelled through the air. All in all, he was pleased.

Throughout his inspection Anne waited by the front door, rubbing her bare arms and squeezing her legs together. She looked very anxious. Wondering where would be the best place to have her bend over; he opened the door to the living room and looked around. He quickly found what he needed.

Pointing at Anne with the switch he instructed her to, "stand by the couch."

She nodded and walked to the couch, stopping at the back of it which was facing the door of the living room, as Dean had hoped she would.

"Take off your shoes."

Anne turned slightly to look at him, cautiously. She obeyed, kicking off her pumps; then neatly lining them up. Dean moved closer to her, stopping in front of her to run the switch over her groin. He knew his actions were not appropriate, but the shorts were so tight that they tucked up between her pussy lips. He couldn't help looking at her tight pussy, flicking the switch against it, teasing her. She gripped the back of the couch with one hand and her stomach was visibly clenching beneath her tank top. He could only imagine her pussy twitching beneath the layers of clothing, making her panties wet.

"Turn around and drop your shorts and panties," he then ordered when he felt his own excitement suddenly take a surge in him.

Dean watched her take a steadying breath before turning around to obey his orders. He tried to contain his heavy sigh of appreciation when she revealed her pretty butt to him.

"Bend over the back of the couch," was his next eager command.

Anne bent right over it; the back of the couch supported her hips and she placed her hands flat on the seat of it. It appeared Dean had chosen a spot that she had been spanked in before, she looked awfully familiar with such a position.

Dean's eyes zoned in on her pert backside again. He reached out a hand to stroke her buttocks lightly, then firmer, pressing harder, and finally he gave each a gentle squeeze in turn. He felt her lower half tremble slightly beneath his palms; she clearly wasn't used to being touched like that.

"Are you nervous?" he asked her. He couldn't resist, he didn't know why, but he wanted to hear from her mouth that she was nervous.

"Yeah ..."

Her response was shaky. She had admitted she was nervous, he could see that she was ... now he wanted to drive that fear up. So he stepped back and lined the switch up across the middle of her buttocks. Now he felt really cruel, now he felt like a sadist.

"Why? Do I scare you?" he asked her and accompanied the question with a tap of the switch on her buttocks.

Anne didn't answer him. He then trailed the switch down her bare thighs.

"Answer me," he insisted.

"A bit," she said.

That made Dean smile. He lined the switch up again, across the midpoint of her cheeks. He tapped a few times in warning, before bringing it down from high in the air, firmly on her cheeks. He watched the switch bend with ease, but it quickly sprang back into shape. The sound it had made against her bare flesh was pleasant. Anne let out nothing more than a gasp, but there was no doubt that she had felt that stroke. Dean briefly admired the line he had made, though perhaps longer than he thought he had because Anne looked back at him curiously. Dean's cold eyes made contact with her fearful eyes.

"Don't look at me," he said quietly.

"Yes Sir," Anne answered, barely audibly.

When she turned her head back to look straight ahead he gave her the next stroke, aiming above the line that had bloomed across the middle of her cheeks. Anne breathed in sharply when the next stroke hit.

Dean gave her another, this time below the middle stripe and then another and another. Making perfect neat lines across her backside and keeping up a regular pace. He noticed that Anne knew when each stroke would come and prepared herself for it, so much so that she could take each stroke with only a whimper. So he gave her three faster ones in succession and that made her at least kick one leg up.

Realising this was the way to go he started to give her more irregular strokes. He spaced them evenly over her backside as much as he could, but the rhythm was sporadic and unpredictable. He elicited the first peel of a moan from her mouth, much to his satisfaction. His unpredictability literally kept her on her toes, she was stretching her long legs out until she was balancing on her tippy toes, but she was still not crying out or pleading for mercy. It was as if she had a tough cows hide, but she did not. Dean could see how soft her tanned bottom was, though relatively white against the rest of her skin. The stripes were pink and he had given her so many now that her bottom had turned a uniform pink colour all over.

The switch was so light that it did not make her buttocks bounce, the only thing making her move was the pain and sting of it. The longer he went on the redder her bottom turned and the harder she found it to stay composed. Her moans were now more audible but she was incredibly well behaved. Not once had she tried to get out of position or put her hands back.

Now he could see blood had rose to just below the surface of the skin ... he wasn't getting the tears that a part of him longed for, but he was going to have to stop. However, just when he had decided to give a final few she started to plead, and her begging sounded even more pleasing to his ears than he ever thought begging would.

"Please ... stop, I've had enough!" she cried out.

He smiled, glanced at her thighs that he had not touched and hit her there. It was half out of mercy, half because her thighs were creamy and soft and he wanted to see a nice pink welt on them.

"You don't want anymore?" he said to accompany the stroke, which brought a high pitched cry from her and made more words tumble from her mouth.

"No! Please ..."

But he still punished her.

"Please ..."

He continued to punish her.

"Pleaseeeee stop! I'll be good. I-I-I won't see Callum anymore!"

Dean laughed heartlessly. Anne was hilarious.

"I don't care what you do when I leave here. Fuck the whole town if you want to. But don't think you can lie to me and get away with it. The next time I babysit you-"

"NO!"

Her anguish made him laugh even harder.

"I will babysit you again. I'm going to offer my services to your parents and the next time I do babysit you, you will obey me. You will obey _my_ rules. Forget your parents rules, when I'm here, you will do what I say."

"Yes Daddy!" she cried out.

"Daddy?" he automatically repeated her, "I'm not your Daddy. I'm giving you a harder switching than Daddy ever would, aren't I? ... Aren't I?" he repeated with a raised voice when he received no answer an gave her a particularly nasty blow to her cheeks again.

"Yes! Yes Sir!"

He hadn't asked her to call him Sir, but it sounded very sweet being painstakingly ripped from her lips. Even more importantly, it felt right.

He then noticed that her body was starting to shake sobs. He supposed she had finally had enough now. He gave her one last hard whack, then took the switch in his hands to snap it in half and throw it aside, but he paused to look at the damage it had took first. It was splintering and when he ran his finger over it he could feel it had dried out significantly; she'd taken quite the beating with it. Having seen that it had served its purpose well, he snapped it in half and chucked the pieces to the floor.

He then tentatively ran his hand over Anne's ass. The stripes were vicious and covered the expanse of her bottom, hips and thighs. They felt like thick ridges under his fingers and he would be very curious to see how they healed in a few days.

"Pull yourself together," he said coldly, looking at the mess of a girl bent over the couch before him.

Anne did not hesitate to obey and swiftly pulled her slutty denim shorts back up; but with care. Dean watched the spectacle with his arms folded, then he kicked the broken pieces of the switch to her.

"Dispose of this then get to bed."

He then slumped onto the couch she had just been bending over and flicked the television back on. He listened to her sniffling, smiling to himself serenely. When he heard Anne's soft foot falls reach the top of the stairs he slipped his hand down his pants, just to check. He'd known he wasn't hard of course, or even getting there, but he thought perhaps if he touched himself he'd feel something ... But he didn't. That was odd, he's just had a gorgeous young woman bending over in front of him and he wasn't the least bit moved by it. But still he felt satisfied ... something inside him had been quenched. He had needed that spanking much more than Anne had.

* * *

><p>He'd given Anne a switching an hour ago now and he hadn't heard a peep from her. Since she'd took herself upstairs immediately following the spanking she hadn't come down. Did all miscreants react like that to a spanking? He'd enjoyed it, it was effective, but it had been tiring. His arm ached a little and he felt sleepy ... he must have dozed off because he found himself being awoken by Rose's horrible voice.<p>

"Hello!" she shouted.

Dean sat up and rubbed his tired eyes. Bert also greeted him and Dean mumbled back to him.

"Is Anne in bed?" he asked.

"She is," Dean confirmed.

"I'll go up to see her," he said.

And find her crying on her bed, perhaps? Dean decided to make himself scarce, quickly.

"Thank you so much," Rose then said to him, "how was she?"

"Fine," Dean shrugged.

Rose obviously expected more conversation out of him, but he didn't want to chat, especially not with her. He rose to his feet and walked to the kitchen to collect the rest of his beers. He was going to make a quick exit out of the back, but Rose followed in his footsteps.

"Thank you so much for coming," she blabbered on again and said other things that he was not listening to.

"Any time," Dean carelessly called over his shoulder, hoisting his beers along with him.

* * *

><p>Dean stood at the front of his house puffing on a cigarette. He preferred to smoke outside rather than inside, he liked blowing it into the cold evening air, away from him. He noticed Anne's old man approach him, he was going to stub out his cigarette so that he could sneak back into his house and pretend he hadn't seen him but he obviously wanted to share a smoke with him, he could see that he was dangling a cigarette between his fingers.<p>

"Want a light?" Dean asked his approaching form politely, feeling like he had to.

"Thanks," Bert answered, putting his cigarette in his mouth. Dean leaned in to light it for him.

The older man took a short puff on his cigarette then pulled it from his lips.

"Man to man ..." he said, looking Dean in the eyes.

Dean actually felt his stomach lurch. He hoped this wouldn't be about Anne ... had he been foolish to do what he did?

"Thank you for disciplining my daughter," Bert said.

Dean let out a sigh of relief and actually laughed, he tried to conceal his smirk and had been about to say, 'it was a pleasure,' but instead he wisely said what he had said to Rose and meant the words this time.

"Any time."


End file.
